Breaking Point
by sallydeathhands
Summary: Everyone has a breaking point... and after a midnight phone call delivers terrible news to Dean, will he reach his?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Breaking Point

Author: Kalmiel

Spoilers: _Season 1- Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things_

**Disclaimer: _I do not own any Supernatural people or places. They belong to Eric Kripke, and the CW._**

_Summary: Everyone has a breaking point… and after a phone call delivers terrible news, will Dean reach his? _

* * *

_A/N: A special thanks to Ridley C. James for allowing me to use her AU version of Caleb and her wonderful Brotherhood. If anyone hasn't read them (although I strongly doubt that possibility) you **HAVE **to head over to her profile and check them out. _

_P.S. Yeah, I know I shouldn't be starting a new story, while I still haven't finished my first Supernatural fic 'Unknown Secrets' or my Charmed fic 'Back Early' But while watching 'Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things' last night, and seeing how close poor Dean is to losing it… well, a plot bunny was formed. (Don't you hate it when that happens?) I promise, I'll do my best to update all of them as quickly as possible. _

* * *

"_The mind grows sicker than the body in contemplation of it's suffering."_

_-Ovid_

* * *

_**Chapter One- Late-Night Phone Call**_

The sharp ringing of a cell-phone cut through the darkness of the motel room.

Dean Winchester jerked, as it startled him from his thin, uneasy sleep.

His first thought was _Dad, _but then with further awakening came painful clarity.

His father was gone.

He snatched the phone from where it was screaming in his duffel bag, looking at Sam who was stirring in the other bed.

He glanced down at the readout on the phone's screen, didn't recognize the number. But that didn't mean anything in this job.

So he flipped it open, and spoke softly, hoping that Sam would fall back to sleep. "Hello?"

Sam groaned internally when Dean's cell went off, waking his brother.

Dean was exhausted, physically, mentally… and especially emotionally. Sam had been watching his brother fearfully, as Dean walked an emotional tightrope these past few weeks.

Sam's heart had nearly shattered as he had sat on the side of the highway; listening to Dean's confession.

_Dad's dead because of me…_

_I was dead, and I should have stayed dead._

The heartbreaking conviction in Dean's voice had made Sam want to cry.

He barely ate or slept, so Sam was cursing whoever was on the other end of the line, for jerking Dean out the little rest he had managed to get.

He listened halfheartedly, mentally urging the other person to hurry up, so that his brother could go back to bed.

His insides went cold, as he heard Dean say, in a near-whisper that was choked with sick horror. "No-no… that's not possible. C-can't be…"

Sam sat up, and was at his older brother's side within seconds. "Dean? Dean, man what's wrong?"

His brother wasn't looking at him, all of his concentration focused on his phone call.

But Sam could see that Dean's face, much too thin these days, had drained of all color.

The older Winchester swallowed hard. "Yeah. Okay… two days… Memorial Park Cemetery…"

Sam stared at his brother blindly. Cemetery?

Who had they lost now?

Dean fumbled in his duffel bag until he found a scrap of paper, and a pen. "Yeah, you can give me the directions now." Sam watched all of this silently, his mind racing.

He read the directions over his brother's back.

_2315 US Highway_

_61 North _

His brother's writing, usually precise and neat, was shaky. Due to the fact that Dean himself was shaking, like a sapling in a strong breeze.

Whoever it was, they were close to them…

_But the last of their family was already dead…_

Caleb?

No, fate wouldn't be that cruel, would it?

Earlier they had been sure that their fellow hunter and close friend had been dead… murdered by Meg. Just like Pastor Jim.

But it had turned out to be a mistake, a glorious mistake

The psychic half-demon was still alive, had stayed with Sam during the seemingly endless time in the hospital with his father and Dean, before the... incident.

So no, it couldn't be Caleb.

_What makes you so sure? After all, the demon's still around, and it has the Colt. Not to mention all of the other things we hunt every day._

Sam firmly pushed the thought away as he heard the click of the phone shutting. Signifying the end of his older brother's conversation.

"Dean? Who was it? What's wrong?"

* * *

Dean kept his back to his brother, as he struggled desperately to get a reign on his rampaging emotions.

Stared down at the cell-phone as dark thoughts bubbled in his head.

If anything at all, this clenched the fact that he should've stayed dead.

"Dean!" Sam's voice was slightly desperate and more than a little scared.

Dean didn't look up. "Yeah Sam?"

"What is it? What happened?"

The older Winchester licked his suddenly dry lips, and tried to force words in his mouth.

He didn't want to though. If he did, then it would make it painfully more real.

"Dean?"

He felt Sam move closer; dropped on his knees next his older brother.. And carefully, but gently, place his hand over Dean's,

He had to say something though. Apparently, his silence was freaking out Sammy, and he didn't want that.

So he swallowed again, and managed one word past the huge lump in his throat.

"Cassie."

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Drop me a line, let me know.


	2. Chapter 2 One Piece at a Time

"_The dead cannot cry for justice; it is the duty of the living to do so for them."_

_- Lois McMaster Bujold _

_**Chapter Two- One Piece at a Time**_

* * *

Sam stared at his older brother uncomprehendingly; mind gone blank.

"Was it her mother-" he asked trying to deny what was all too obvious.

Dean leaned forward, his hands clenched tightly together; the cords standing out in his neck in bas relief as he struggled valiantly not to cry.

"No," he finally managed to whisper. "Cassie. She's… dead. Well, her mother died, too, but Cassie…"

The younger Winchester after only a moment's hesitation, reached over and wrapped Dean up in an embrace.

An embrace which Dean didn't try to pull out.

That added to Sam's fear. Dean always eschewed so called chick-flick moments; hated them with a passion. For him to willingly submit to his Sam's hug meant that his older brother was in serious trouble.

"Dean…" God, what should he say? "I'm so sorry, man. What happened?"

He was expecting something mundane, and normal. Car accident, something like that.

So he was completely floored when Dean whispered, his voice choked with pain and… guilt.  
"Fire."

Sam's eyes grew wide.

"They're blaming it on…" Dean gave a ghastly smile. "Guess what? Faulty wiring in the ceiling. Doesn't _that_ sound familiar?"

"Dean…"

"Demon's getting his revenge," his brother muttered, not even listening to Sam. "Two wrongs don't make a right…" he trailed off.

"Dean!" Sam said, raising his voice. If he had been scared before; he was getting positively terrified now.

He had never seen his brother like this… so lost and confused.

Since their father's death, Sam had been worried about his brother, as he watched helplessly as Dean closed himself off, refusing to talk about it.

And as he became more and more volatile each day.

Dean had always been the strong one, but everyone had a breaking point… Sam had worried that he had been reaching it, slowly, one day a time, but had hoped to head it off before anything drastic happened.

But this… Sam wondered and feared that this would be the proverbial straw that would break his big brother.

He looked hard at Dean, who sat on the motel bed, head bowed, chest heaving slightly, and his hands clenched together so tightly that his knuckles stood out, knobby and white.

Hesitantly, Sam reached out and touched Dean's arm. "Hey… you still with me, man?"

He didn't bother asking if his brother was alright. Because Sam already knew the answer… after suffering through the same thing. But Dean had been on the verge of self-imploding, even before this.

So Sam eyed his brother carefully; waiting for an answer. Hoping to see that there was some sign of his brother in this devastated, shell-shocked person sitting on the bed in front of him.

After a few minutes, when he still had received no answer, Sam opened his mouth to ask again.

"Yeah… I'm here Sammy."

The delayed reaction made Sam's concern hike up a notch.

"So we're going to Cape Girardeau?" Sam asked softly, trying to extract the information he needed as gently as possible. He assumed that whomever Dean had been talking with had been discussing the funeral… which was apparently in two days.

* * *

Dean blinked at Sam, the rubbed at his burning eyes, which kept trying to leak traitorous tears.

His brain had seemed to shut down, ever since Cassie's friend and co-worker… god what was her name, had told him that Cassie was gone.

Christina? Or was it Krista? He couldn't remember much.

Just the cold, bitter facts that the crying young woman had told him.

Her mother had been killed, too, as the house that had burned was Cassie's family home. Cassie had taken over the newspaper… _The Cape Girardeau Daily _after Jimmy Anderson had been killed.

Krista or Christina had found his name and phone number in Cassie's Blackberry, and a picture of them together, smiling and happy, sitting right on her desk.

His own imagination conjured up what he believed… no, what he _knew _was the truth,

And during the night, the demon… with his glowing yellow eyes had caught her… then subsequently pinned her to the ceiling; stomach slashed, blood dripping, terror in her dark eyes. Flames consuming the ceiling which destroyed the Robinson house… and subsequently killed Cassie's mother as well.

He bit his lip hard, as he felt tears trying to escape again. Oblivious to Sam's concern.

_I should've stayed dead… this never would've happened if I were alive…_

_Sammy says that everything bad that ever happened in our life was his fault… but I'm beginning to think it's mine_.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3 Down Memory Lane

A/N: Wow… I didn't expect the response this has gathered… I mean, this was just a little plot bunny that stubbornly refused to leave the scary place I call my brain. But people have reviewed rather quickly, and that makes me very happy.

_So thanks to… Taiven, Thru Terry's Eyes, gaelicspirit, JPFAN, princess peanut, Onari, DeeUnnatural, My heart beats only for you, angel679, JensenLover, and winchestergirl196, and Hellgirl77. If I missed anyone, thanks!_

_A/N: And to answer your question DeeUnnatural, no, I don't believe there will be any Supernatural aspect to this, besides the fact of the Ceiling Demon killing Cassie. It will just be a Dean drama and angst fic. But you never know… my mind (strange as it is) might change things._

* * *

"_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep."- Robert Frost_

_**Chapter Three- Down Memory Lane**_

They left early the following morning, as to make to the funerals on time.

While they drove; Sam took frequent glances at his older brother, not happy with what he saw.

Dean's face was chalky pale, and thin and drawn in the early morning light, His green eyes were heavily shadowed and socketed, not to mention awfully bloodshot.

A man who had spent a sleepless night, trying desperately not to cry.

Sam wanted to ask how his brother was doing, but he knew all too well Dean's coping mechanisms. Defensive anger.

If he asked, it would not end well.

Like it would end with Sam getting punched in the face… like the last time he had tried to broach the subject of death.

So he wisely remained silent and plotted other ways of comforting his brother.

* * *

Cape Girardeau hadn't changed much, if all since the last time they had been there. The landscape and buildings that is.

The underlying emotion, however, was very much different. Yeah, last time they had arrived during the time of tragedy, but the victims had been older.

Cassie Robinson had been twenty-six, vivacious and ready to take on the world.

A life that had been cut way too short.

* * *

Dean, for his part, wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings. His thoughts were far, far away, years ago in the college town of Athens, Ohio…

_He was at Athens' local library, researching their latest gig… a job he had taken over since Sammy had left for Stanford. _

_He was staring at the computer screen, looking for the werewolf activity that had been taking place in the area recently… when he smelled it._

_An incredible scent that reached his nostrils, and distracted him from his work. _

_He looked up, abandoning his lycanthropy research and immediately noticed her. _

_She was impossible **not **to notice, he thought, standing by a rack of books, pursuing them with an intensity that both made him want to smile… and brought a familiar pang to his heart._

_Sam had done that, too, searching the bookshelves for a hidden treasure that would either save their lives hunting… or simply let him escape from the rigors of their job for a little while._

_The amazing smelling young woman was also impossibly beautiful. Creamy mocha-colored skin seemingly without flaw, an incredible body, long dark wavy hair, her face a perfect oval, large dark eyes framed by long dark lashes._

_But honestly, Dean noticed all of that secondly._

_No, he first noticed the incredible vitality and fierce hunger for life that this girl virtually excluded from every pore. _

_So finally, summoning up his courage, he stood from the computers, and sauntered over to where she was standing by the bookshelves. He stood silently beside her at first, eyeing the rows of literature. _

_Reaching out; he selected one for himself … the Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe (contrary to what his family thought, he did read, and quite often), then turned his eyes toward the girl._

"_Hey." he said, smiling briefly at her._

_The goddess looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Hello. I haven't seen you around here before. And you are?"_

"_That's because I'm just visiting. The name's Dean Winchester," he gave her another smile, making it even more charming this time. "But you haven't told me yours."_

_She looked vaguely amused. "It's Cassie… Cassie Robinson."_

"_Well, Cassie Robinson… What kind of movies do you like?"_

_A small smirk played briefly on her face. "If I tell you, are you going to laugh at me?"_

"_No. Unless it's a chick-flick, then I'm morally obligated."_

_She chuckled, shook her head. "Nooo... I've been wanting to see The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers… I was a J.R.R. Tolkien fanatic and when they came out with the movies-"_

_Dean simply held up a hand. "Hey, you're looking at a man who has not only read The Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, but also The Silmarillion, difficult as it was to follow," he continued. 'It's playing at the University Theater tonight… Would you be interested in seeing it with me?"_

_She smiled. "I don't even know anything about you." But there was definite interest in her voice._

_He smiled, too. "Well, what's your favorite restaurant?"_

"_Mistretta's Italian Market on Shafer Street," she said, with another soft smile that sent his heart racing. "Why?"_

"_Well, how 'bout I take you out to dinner, we can get to know each other a little better in a public place. Then I'll take you to see that movie," Dean raised an eyebrow. "Sound good?"_

_She tried to school her face into seriousness, but found another warm smile break across her face. _

"_All right. You're on, Dean Winchester. You can pick me at my apartment at 6:00..." she rattled off an address. "It's very close to the University… I'm studying Journalism there."_

* * *

_**Mistretta's Italian Market **_

_Dean couldn't remember when he had last felt this happy._

_He was sitting across the table from a funny, spirited, and beautiful woman who happened to have the ability to make him laugh._

"_So you're an only child, huh?" he asked, toying with his wine glass. He really wasn't a wine type, but Cassie had wanted some. And he wasn't about to say no to her…_

_She smiled. "Yep. I guess my poor parents were afraid that if they had another kid; they'd end up just like me."_

"_And what's so wrong with that?" _

_Her smile grew wider. "You're sweet… so what about you? Any brothers or sisters?"_

_Dean's expression faded somewhat and Cassie inferred that she had just hit a rather sore spot. "Uh… yeah. I have a younger brother… His name's Sam; he's nineteen. He just went to Stanford last year."_

_Cassie looked at him for a long moment. "And you miss him, don't you? You two were close."_

_Dean startled; at the sudden insight from a girl he had just met._

_He twisted his hands together rapidly; a nervous habit that he had adapted right after his mother had been killed… and hadn't been able to break._

"_Uh… well, yeah…see Sam and my dad got into a fight before he left. I mean, it was bordering on World War 3. And my father said that if he went to California, not to bother coming back. Both of 'em were so pissed… but anyway, Sammy won't take my calls. I haven't talked to him since he left."_

_The emotion in Cassie's eyes were a mixture of anger and sadness. "So he's blaming **you **for something that apparently was your father's fault?"_

_Dean shrugged. "He wanted me to stand up for him… but I-"_

"_You couldn't choose between your brother or your father." she finished quietly._

_Once more, she had shocked the hell out of him._

_He nodded, unable to speak._

"_And they shouldn't have put you in that position. It isn't fair to expect you to choose."_

_Dean swallowed hard, struggling to reign in his rampaging emotions before they exploded._

_He decided the best way was to try to turn the focus back on her._

"_So do you live here?" he asked._

_She shook her head. "No. I live in a town in Missouri called Cape Girardeau," she looked at him questioningly. "Where do you live?"_

_Dean wondered how he was going to answer that… should he say various motel rooms across the U.S.?_

_Instead, he swallowed hard, and said. "Uh… well I was born in a little town called Lawrence, Kansas."_

_A half-smile crossed her face. "Would you feel insulted if I said I'd never heard of it?"_

_Dean fought to keep a look of pain from crossing his face. He had no fond memories of Lawrence, as they had been overshadowed by the bad one that had defined and re-shaped his entire life at age four…_

"_Nope. It's just a little, out-of-the-way town… nothing much to see," he forced a grin. "So you ready to go see the hobbits?"_

* * *

More...?


	4. Chapter 4 Bittersweet Memories

_"For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,  
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd;  
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,  
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!"_

- _**George Gordon **_

* * *

****

As they checked into a cheap motel, Dean desperately tried to block out his early memories of Cassie… but without success.

They continued to flow over him like water over river stones. Quickly and without and restraint.

He was remembering when they had gotten out of the movie…

_Dean put on an affronted face, struggling to keep from grinning. "Hey, you're not supposed to go on about how hot another guy is when you're out on a date!"_

_On the way out, Cassie had raved about how cute she thought the guy who played Aragorn was… something Mortensen._

_She grasped his hand now, and sent him a sly grin. "Especially when I'm out with a guy who's hotter, right?"_

_He gave her a grin of his own. "Hey, you said it… I didn't," he hesitated, then after gathering his courage, blurted out, hoping he wasn't moving too fast. "I-uh-I had a really good time tonight. Would you like to see another movie or something tomorrow?"_

_For a long moment, he thought she was going to reject him, as the silence stretched out for so long._

_So long, in fact, he began to speak. "It's okay. I understand-"_

_His words were cut off by one of her slender fingers pressing against his lips. _

_She gave him one of those heart-stopping smiles, and said. "I'd love to go out with you again. I was just thinking about what movies were playing," she paused for a second. "How about we see two of them? Both Spider-Man and Star Wars: Episode II- Attack of the Clones are at the movie theater tomorrow."_

_A slow smile spread across his face. "Cassandra Robinson, I think I love you. You love Lord of the Rings, Spider-Man, **and **Star Wars? I think I'm going to have to marry you."_

_A blush graced Cassie's face, making her look even more beautiful to Dean._

_She regained her equilibrium quickly, though, and gave Dean an evil smile._

"_Well in that case… I'll have to take you to Cape Girardeau to meet my parents someday soon."_

_Dean grinned back, feeling positively giddy, an emotion he hadn't experienced since he was four-years-old. There was something else too, a deeper, warmer emotion that was harder to identify. _

_But he strongly suspected that it might've been love._

* * *

_They spent the rest of the night learning things about each other in a Starbucks around the corner._

_Dean learned Cassie adored her parents, Martin and Sharon Robinson. That she was blended, as her father was African-American, and her mother was Caucasian. How after she finished up with her journalism degree, she was going to work for the newspaper in her hometown, The Cape Girardeau Daily. Her father's best friend, Jimmy Anderson owned it, and he had taught her everything he knew. _

_Dean, however, carefully edited his words. His mother had been murdered when he was four-years-old. His father had become some sort of a bounty hunter and had spent the next nineteen years trying to hunt down her killer. Meanwhile hunting other dangerous people. _

"_What's your parents' names?" she asked softly._

"_My dad's name is John… and my mom's name was Mary."_

_She graced him with a sweet smile. "And you've spent nineteen years trying to hunt down her murderer? Must be a dangerous life you live."_

_Inwardly, Dean was laughing._

_Honey, he thought, if you only knew…_

* * *

Now, walking into the hotel room, he thought perhaps that if he hadn't told her... maybe she would still be alive.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5 Phone a Friend

_**A/N:** I wasn't intending on doing this… I was just planning on mentioning Caleb in the first chapter, and leave it at that. But I decided to bring him in… blame it on Ridley for creating such an addicting series with such wonderful characters… _

_Thanks again Ridley._

_Also there will be spoilers for her fic **On the Wings of a Phoenix **_

_**A/N: **Also, I apologize for not updating anything. In July, my family discovered that my father has leukemia; and so my mother and I have been rather busy taking him to chemotherapy. And it's a rare type that is rather difficult to beat… So frankly, between running him to the Huntsman Cancer Institute, I really haven't had the ambition to do anything. So I hope you guys all understand… I just thought I owed all of you guys an explanation; especially those of you who are still reviewing, despite my extended absence. _

_A major thanks to all of you. _

* * *

_The heart asks pleasure first,  
And then, excuse from pain;  
And then, those little anodynes  
That deaden suffering; _

And then, to go to sleep;  
And then, if it should be  
The will of its Inquisitor,  
The liberty to die. 

_**The Heart Asks Pleasure First - Emily Dickinson **_

* * *

Fear and dread. It had condensed into a sickening cocktail that mixed badly in Sam's system, as he stared worriedly at his older brother.

Dean had been silent since confirming that yeah, they were going back to Cape Girardeau for the funerals.

That had been nearly nine hours ago… and Dean had been virtually mute.  
Now he sitting frozen on the edge of the hotel bed; silent despite Sam's almost nervous pleas to get him to talk.

It wasn't right… Dean was always talking, chattering about one thing or another. He was _never _silent.

He wondered if he was getting a firsthand view of what Dean had been like after watching their mother burn. He knew, as Dean had spoken of it when they where in Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. To Lucas Barr, anyway.

He still remembered that heartbreaking conversation…

_You're scared. It's okay, I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave._

He had never seen this side of Dean… his brother had always been unshakable, an unmovable object. A brother who risked everything for him…

Whether it had been his life and limbs or their father's incredible wrath.

He vaguely remembered a time back when he was seven-years-old, his maternal grandfather, Charles Conner had taken him away from John… and Dean.

Three days had gone by, and he hadn't been allowed to talk to his brother… or anyone else. Back then was the days when they frequently stayed with Pastor Jim. And Caleb and Mac would stay around, too. Like one big family.

Dean had risked his father's anger and it turned out his life, as a serial killer that had been praying on children took him when the ten-year-old took a bus to return the dragons to his brother.

Caleb and the others had saved him then.

Caleb… the one other person who could help Dean when he was like this.

In fact, Sam thought, if he was really truthful with himself, Caleb could probably help Dean better than himself. After all, Caleb was the one person in Dean's life who had never abandoned him.

They had known Caleb Reaves for twenty-two years. Eight years older than Dean; he was nonetheless, the elder Winchester's best and closest friend.

Like Sam, Caleb was psychic, only much stronger.

He'd been having visions since the age of thirteen, his first one being the death of his grandmother. At first, a young Caleb was terrified that _he _was causing the deaths he saw in his mind.

It took getting tossed around the foster system, the brutal double murder of his foster parents, and Caleb getting tossed into a mental institution before something good to come into his life.

Or rather someone good.

Caleb, although he didn't know it, had been sending out silent psychic pleas for help.

And they were answered by a psychic named Missouri Mosley, in Lawrence, Kansas.

Part of the Brotherhood, she immediately alearted Pastor Jim Murphy, the Guardian and head of the order.

And Dr. Mackland Ames, a renowned nuerosurgoen who had received strong psychic abilities of his own; courtesy of a car wreck that had left him in a three-month coma.

When Mac met Caleb in the hospital; he immediately had felt a bond between himself and the frightened, yet defiant teenager.

It didn't take long, only a half-day at that before Caleb started to tentatively reach out to Mac… tentative, as he was worried that Mac would dissapear, or even worse, die like everyone else in his life.

But Mac hadn't left. He'd done even better… he had saved Caleb from Daniel Elkins, then back in 1982, the Knight of the Triad.

Daniel had become convinced that Caleb was demonically possessed and no one… not even Jim Murphy could dissuade him when he said that Caleb was innocent.

Elkins had attacked Caleb- but Mac had saved him. And later adopted him as his own son.

It was one year later, at Pastor Jim's, when the Winchesters and Caleb had met.

Mackland had been asked to examine Dean, who after a year later after witnessing his mother's death, still wasn't speaking.

It took awhile, Sam was told, and it was done in small steps.

At first, all Dean would speak to was his younger brother… as he crawled into his crib at night in order to protect him from whatever had slaughtered their mother. Dean would apparently speak softly; practically inaudibly to his little brother. Assurances that he would keep him safe from the monsters… that he wouldn't let the fire-creature take him like it took Mommy.

Then Caleb came into their lives.

Apparently, Dean felt slightly safer around Caleb because he was 'a kid just like him. It was then that Caleb christened Dean 'Deuce'… and Dean started calling Caleb 'Damien'… and had gotten him to talk.

And after that, the two had been inseparable ever since.

Glancing once more at the still, zombie-like figure sitting on the bed, Sam didn't hesitate.

He stepped outside, wincing as he noticed that Dean didn't even move. Not a single flinch.

Then he flipped opened his cell phone and pressed speed dial # 3 for Caleb.

Three rings then a familiar voice answered. "This better be good Runt."

Sam sighed, and obviously Caleb picked up on it immediately. "What is it Sam? What's wrong?"

Swallowing hard, Sam said quietly. "It's Dean."

"Deuce? What's wrong?" there was almost panic in Caleb's voice.

"Did he ever tell you about Cassie?"

"Cassie Robinson? Sure, I met her once," his tone turned suspicious. "Why?"

"She was killed… there was a fire in her house-blamed on faulty wiring in the ceiling."

"Shit," Caleb breathed. "The demon." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, that's what we thought. But um, Caleb… Dean, he's…"

"Fucked-up?"

"Yeah. Big-time. He's not speaking."

"Where are you guys Sammy?" It sounded like Caleb was on his way out the door.

"Cape Girardeau, Missouri. It was Cassie's hometown."

He heard Caleb breath a sigh of relief. "Well, you're in luck. 'Cause I'm in Nashville. If I push the speed limit, I can be there in about four hours. What motel you guys at?"

"Uh… it's a place called the Sleep-E-Z-Motel. We're in room number eight"

It was a sign of how worried Caleb was when he didn't laugh.

* * *

True to his word, Caleb was in Cape Girardeau in three-in-half-hours. It showed how concerned he was by the fact that he had shaved nearly an hour off his drive.

He knocked on number eight and said quietly. "It's me Sam."

Sam opened the door, and Caleb asked. "How is he?"

Gesturing with his arm, Sam showed him the bed Dean was sitting on, his green eyes staring at nothing in particular.

"Fuck," Caleb muttered softly, and Sam watched a myriad of expressions play across his face. Worry, affection, fear and more, all written on Caleb's expressive face.

He went over and knelt beside the bed. "Hey Deuce… here we are again, you doing the zombie impression, and me trying to get you to talk."

He grabbed Dean gently by the arm. "C'mon man… please talk to me."

Dean remained mute.

Caleb stood, and ran a distracted hand through his dark hair, which was cut similarly to Sam's these days.

"Could you read him?" Sam asked in a hushed tone. As if there was a chance of disturbing Dean.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"He's remembering when he met Cassie- and blaming himself." Caleb sighed as he thought back to when the last time he'd seen Dean like this- when Sam had left for Stanford. For months after he'd been reduced to a monosyllabic ghost.

Which was a improvement over this silent, staring motionless figure on the bed though.

And back then, John had been there although he'd provided little help. And Pastor Jim _who _had been.

Now all he had was Caleb.

_And Sammy _his mind added. Sammy would be a big help of freeing Dean from his own mind.

He just hoped they were both up to the task.


End file.
